


Chasing stars

by Tardicus



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tardicus/pseuds/Tardicus
Summary: A troubled mage seeks out her wayward brother, and finds he is plagued by his own misfortune.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya folks, as you can probably see this is the first fic I've published. I would really love to get some feedback on it. 
> 
>  
> 
> Update as of 1/23:I greatly underestimated the workload that would be placed on me once our director left, so I have had very little time to work on this. But I certainly have been working on it, and will get the next chapter out soon. I'm still in the market for a beta, which would really help me.

The sunset fills the entire sky with deep colors of rubies and sapphires, setting the clouds above Vesuvia ablaze. Light spills down between the humble patchwork of shops and homes rowing the road, enough to make the puddles reflect dirty reds and blues back to the heavens. The Apothecary shop sits where it always has, just off the road in a large alley with a couple of small stone steps keeping the entrance well out of the mud. Its wooden sign swaying lazily from its chains above the door, the simple image of a snake coiled around a pestle and mortar painted upon it. However in recent years patrons could come and seek out more than just elixirs. Ever since the magician took over the shop you could come to get a glimpse of your fate, with alarming certainty. Everything in the shop has an preternatural air of mystery. Vibrant, gauzy material twisted along the ceilings reaching over to each wall, all heavily curtained. Teardrop glass lanterns filled with glowing fluid hang from chains and candles scattered in every corner of the smoky shop casts everything in a dim haze. The many potted plants, dried bundles of herbs, and spicy incense fill the space with a stimulating, earthy aroma. A window above the shop’s door casts a thin sliver of light down onto the glass display counter, illuminating the many multi-colored bottles of potions and poultices for sale, and provides more than enough light for Liam to watch his white haired friend prepare to leave yet again.

Asra reminds me that the night of a new moon is the best time to set out on a journey as he mills about the shop, gathering various supplies into his satchel. Between putting a fist full of dried skink in a spare pouch and searching for his broken compass, he assures that he’ll miss me. The words ring hollow; they have for some time now. He’s been the only person I can call a friend, but he’s always so distant. Just out of reach. Loneliness is my companion more often than not, as he comes and goes in my life like a soft breeze. I know there's nothing I can do to stop him from leaving, so I take my time memorizing him in this moment. The way his tanned skin glows warmly under the many lamps hanging in the shop, and the way the muscles of his forearms dance under his skin as he packs his things. As far back as I can remember he’s been in my life. He came to my shop and offered me an apprenticeship under him, but now the line of our relationship has blurred. I’ve always had a fondness for him, but overtime that fondness has turned into a distracting needy thing, one I long to make sense of. His warm friendliness is always comforting, but the looks he gives me when he thinks I’m not paying attention makes me question what he wants of me. However when I reach out to him he pulls away, acting like nothing had ever happened. This confusing dance has me begging for answers, if only I could make him talk. I snort at the thought.

‘Asra does as Asra wants, but he could at least warn me of his plans.’

Even so, I can feel cold bitterness creep inside me as he prepares to leave. I try to push those nagging thoughts out of my mind. They would probably only serve to complicate the situation further, or worse yet, prolong his absence. At least I know he will return eventually, and I will have another chance at this game. His absences have been getting longer, the most recent one nearly three weeks. It was after I had rolled over upon waking and thrown an arm over his chest, pulling him closer to me. He gave me a troubled look and pulled himself from the bed to go downstairs, leaving me with the fading warmth he left in the sheets. He never brought it up, would change the subject whenever I would ask what had bothered him, and left later that night.

“How long this time?” I mutter.

Asra stiffens, throwing a guilty look over his shoulder at me, but quickly recovers into a more cheerful demeanor. A sly grin quirking the the corners of his mouth up, he turns to face me fully.

“Here, take this.” The wandering magician says, pulling his tarot deck from his bag. “For you to play around with while I’m gone.”

Maybe he could sense my discomfort and hoped to mollify it by loaning me his prized deck, or maybe he simply doesn’t need them on this trip and wants me to practice while he’s away. Of all the many types of magic, tarot and other forms of divination have always resonated with me the most. Either way, the cards unnerve me, and I hesitate to take them. When I finally do a wide grin splits his face, creasing the corners of his eyes. Even with the cards safe in their velvet pouch and I can hear them whisper to me in some strange saccharine tongue. I shake the feeling of familiarity and turn my attention to the man in front of me.

“Do you think I’m ready, Master?”

An uneasy expression twists his smile downwards, and his eyes drift off to some space in the corner of the room.

“You’re still calling me that? You know I can't answer that for you.” he turns away from me to stare at the row of drawers and shelves lining the back wall, “You’ve made incredible progress, but you still won't let go of your doubt.” His gaze drops to the collection of jars on display under the glass counter, still for several moments before turning back around with a reserved smile, leaning against the shops counter, “Do you think you’re ready?”

I look at the pouch in my hands, pondering if Asra’s question was steeped in double meaning. As I know he often likes to do. The magic that tickles my fingers though the fabric gives me an idea

“Why don’t we ask the cards?” I know that what you can hide behind soft smiles and charming words, you cannot hide from magic. The idea gives me some hope, though I feel a tinge of guilt for using such a duplicitous method. I quickly squash those feelings.

‘The ends justify the means.’

“Excellent suggestion. It’s been awhile since we practiced.”

Asra slips past me, making his way leisurely to the small curtained backroom. He sinks down into the pile of pillows against the back wall, the dim blue lamp making his soft ringlets glow. He leans over the table, bracing his elbow against the layers of table clothes and props his chin up with the palm of his hand. His large amethyst eyes shine as he looks up at me. I move to sit on one of the low chairs across from him, slipping the cards from their pouch and quickly shuffling them.

“Because I’ve perfected it? I’ve certainly had enough time to myself to practice.” I tried to sound aloof, but it still held a patronizing tone.

“Have you now?. I shouldn’t have expected any less, you really are gifted.” he responds playfully, seemingly unaware of slight, “Lets not wait any longer. Oh, we’re not alone.”

Cool scales brush against my leg and I peek down to see Faust’s pale body slide up onto the table, making her way over to Asra. He runs a finger along her as she curls around his shoulders, flicking her tongue in the air.

“Now that we’re all here lets begin.” Asra chuckles.

I arrange three cards on the table, letting their magic fill the small space. I can feel it reach out to caress the both of us before pulling back and settling into the spread. My hand hovers over them while the little whispers dance around my ears. I’m drawn to one, the electric pull unmistakable, and I turn it over hastily.

“The High Priestess.”

“Oh, and what does she say?” Asra leans close, and two sets of eyes focus on me, “Is she speaking to you now?"

“You have forsaken her." I open my mind to the song of the cards, letting them fill my head with symbols and meaning, using it as a vehicle to reach into Asra’s bright aura.

“I have?”

“Yes, you have pushed her away, buried her voice. She calls out but you won’t listen.” I pause to breathe as my mind dips further into the aether, “You act as gatekeeper, but hesitate to open anything. You hold one eye closed while walking a dream. Master, if you don’t listen to her-”

I don't know if Asra’s startled look is from what I just said or the knock on the door. He stands from his nest in the pillows and moves to gather his things from the counter, twisting his shawl around his shoulders tightly. I steady myself with the table as I stand, still dazed from the reading.

“Did you forget to put out the lantern again? Just as well,” he chuckles before turning somber, his eyes darting to the back door, “I can't stay any longer.”

“We didn't finish the reading, we haven't even had dinner.” I lurch over to the counter, blocking Asra’s view of the door.

“We can finish another time, you should see to your customer.” he says bluntly, face turning to side and eyes darting away from me as he thumbs the buckle of his bag.

I open my mouth to retort, but quickly close it, pressing it into a thin line. Grasping his fidgeting hand I run my thumb over the back of his smooth knuckles, completely different from my own. Which were marked by old cuts and scrapes, most of which I don’t ever recall receiving. When he doesn’t move I place a hand on the side of his jaw and pull it towards me, forcing him to at least look at me.

“You don’t have to leave tonight, Asra. We can stay, and eat, and rest. Then maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, you can take me with you when you go.”

“I…” he starts, throat bobbing behind his golden choker. His jaw tightens under my palm and then he steps back, pulling himself from away from me, “I can’t. It’s already so late.”

Asra steps around me and to the back door, pulling his plumed hat off of its hook as Faust winds her way down his body and onto the floor. I watch her slide into the pillows and bury herself in them as I clench my fists, digging my nails into the flesh of my hand.

“Well then…” Asra hums as he unties the little tasseled rope holding up the curtain that covers the back door, letting it fall between the two of us, “Take care of yourself, Liam. Until we meet again.”

I hear him adjust the leather strap on his bag, then the soft click of the lock. And just like that he is gone again. I run my hands through my hair, pushing my bangs back from my face, trying to wipe away the static of the unfinished reading and maddening frustration. There is another knock at the door, quieter this time. I let out a grunt, trudging over to open it.

“I'm sorry, but we are closed.” I declare, reaching up to the lantern.

“Liam?” they gasp. The voice stops me in my tracks, and I feel the faint tingle of a headache coming on.

I look down and see a young woman in a traveler's cloak, a few years younger than myself. The hood had fallen back slightly and I could see the wisps of hair that had come undone from her milkmaid braid to fall around her fair face. Her eyes were wide and questioning, and her lips parted slightly as her jaw slacked. Something in my head tears. I clutch my head and groan, stepping back into the shop.

“Liam!” she cries with worry and follows me in.

I lean against the counter behind me as my knees begin to shake. I feel my brain pulse and I howl in pain, gripping my skull with both hands. I screw my eyes shut as bright little lights dance across my vision. I feel her grab my forearms just before I sink to my knees, bringing her down with me.

“Oh Soleil1, what’s wrong!?” she pleads, rubbing her thumbs up and down my wrists as I pant.

I pry my eyes open to look at her, but that only increases the unyielding pressure. Images of a young girl with the same hair flash quickly through my mind. One moment she’s running around large fountain, then sitting across a table from me, then suddenly she’s looking up at me while smiling mischievously. One after the other they flit scattered through my thoughts.

“Who are you?” I rasp.

She sucks in a breath and releases my wrists. I force my eyes open, and I can see confusion clear as day on her face.

“Don’t you remember me? Please, you have to. This doesn't make sense. You have to!” she cries, her eyes brimming with tears. She reaches back up to pet my arms with shaky hands.

Then all at once the pressure is gone, and all the remains is the soothing touch of clarity. I feel parts of my mind light up in recognition, bringing color back to the black voids in my mind. My lips turn up into a grin as a long forgotten warmth fills me.

“Rosia, of course. How could I…” I assure her, grasping her fussing hands in mine. Her lips pull into an indignant pout as her expression turns sour.

“How could you what, Liam? Forget me?!” she blurted out.

I release her hands to pull her into a hug, shushing her cries of protest. She struggles weakly before turning her face into my chest with a huff, wrapping her arms around my waist.

 

 

“This isn’t funny, not one bit. Don’t joke about these things!” I grouse, turning my face up from his chest.

Liam opens his mouth as if to speak, before closing it again and looking off to the side contemplatively. You stay like that for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, unsure of what to make of it.

He pulls both of you to your feet, kicking the door closed before leading me to a dimly lit room in the back. I unpin my cloak and hand it to Liam, who simply throws it on a hook near the little room. Taking a seat on one of the low round chairs and crossing my legs, I watch Liam carefully sink down into the pillows and lean against the wall. He just stares up at the little lamp, lost in thought.

“I…” he pauses to drag a hand down his face and rub the stubble on his chin, “I wasn’t trying to play with you. I honestly didn’t remember you until now. The memories just weren’t there.”

“What do you mean? Was there an accident, did you hit your head?” I ask, brows knitting together.

“No, I don’t think anything quite so dramatic, It’s just....not there. I don’t know why, I’ve never really thought about it until now, I didn’t remember anything to even think about until now.” Liam appears ill at ease, distress flicking over his features. “Maybe Asra….?”

“Asra?”

“My master,” Liam pauses, “He’s been living here with me, teaching me.” Liam studies the tarot cards that are still spread out on the table, the high priestess is the only one turned over. I sense an uneasy tension in the air, and the slight pull from the other cards longing to be read.

“There’s more, I can feel it.” I run my finger down the face of the owl card, the telltale crackle of energy swirls around the room, “This draw is fresh. What happened?”

Liam’s eyes go wide and shoulders tensing visibly under his tunic, taken aback by my frankness.

“I’m not quite sure yet myself.” He says as he slides the card out from under my fingers, closer to himself, “As curious as this is, I doubt I will get any real answer from him. Even if he did have some idea.”

“I doubt your master wouldn't help you.”

“You don't know him like I do. And…..I hardly know him at all.” he huffs, as if he was defeating himself. The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown that doesn't reach his eyes, which seemed to have a tired determination set in them, as he stacks the cards up in the center of the table, “None of this makes sense.”

“It certainly complicates things.” I sigh, looking at the cards before pinching the bridge of my nose, “What do you remember?”

“I remember you. I don’t understand it though, it was like pulling a veil off of my memories of you. I remember Asra coming to the shop,” his face tightened as his his eyes screwed shut, “I can’t…...the rest is…” he clutches his head, brows creasing in pain.

“Easy, don’t force yourself, just try to remember what you can.”

“That was a year ago, when Asra arrived. That's all I can remember back to. Even the memories of you are hazy.” He laments as a white snake appears from under the pillows and slithers up onto his lap. He lays his hand on top of it, which the creature happily coils itself around, and his tension seems release somewhat.

“You left five years ago, Liam.” I say, my voice almost cracking as it tightens at the realization.

“Five years, how could I have…and everything before that as well? How is all of that missing?” he startles, the snake craning its head to look at him.

I slip down into the pillows with him, leaning back and into his shoulder, hoping the closeness we help ease our worries.

“Calme mon Soleil2, it is not missing. These kinds of spells do not destroy, only hide. You did not truly forget me, did you?” I try to comfort him, but remembering what the sisters have told me about this kind of magic makes the words fall short in my own mind.

“No. But if I never would have saw you again, would I have lost you forever.” He seems forlorn. “How much more is lost to me now? How do you know its a spell?”

I raise my hand and lightly run my fingers over the snake’s head, trying to think of a way to answer without dashing what little hope he may have.

“Her name’s Faust, she's Asra’s.” Liam explains casually.

I smile at down at Faust, delighted at her calm and gentle demeanor. We don't have many snakes back home, the land is frozen half the year, so seeing one is a rare treat. Let alone one so friendly, when most of our local reptiles are more than happy to strike out when found. At least Liam has had some good company since he has been gone, far better company than you have had at least.

“I’ve studied the same as you, for many years, though we took different paths. You did not leave home a novice. Also you didn’t hit your head, you said so yourself, at least not hard enough to do this.” I reach up and grasp his chin, turning his head from side to side while examining his scalp just to be sure.

“So I lost my magic as well.” he says, his gaze dropping to his lap as I release his chin.

“Soleil.” I plead.

He doesn’t respond.

“Liam, stop this. Despair does not suit you.” I say playfully, trying to pull him from the depression, “This is not the end, just one more thing to conquer.”

He purses his lips, nodding slowly, but keeping his eyes downcast.

“It is getting late, we should both sleep on this discovery. Much has happened; far too quickly for us I fear.” I say while glancing to the entrance, “I have somewhere I can go, but I don't want to leave just yet.”

“Stay, you can stay here. I don’t want to be alone tonight, and I’ve only just found you again.” he instantly replays.

“You found me?” I chirp with laughter, “You didn’t just spend the day talking to every stranger on the street, trying to find a trail. Honestly I did not think I would find you so quickly. When I knocked on the door I was expecting a colleague of yours, or a distant relative.”

“Distant relative? Aren’t we from here?”

“No, momma was though. I think this was her family's home.” I gaze around the shop, spotting all the little familiar symbols of her craft. Our families craft.

“I can’t remember anyone else being here, only myself. And Asra when he comes home, if he even calls this home.”

“Well then, that’s one less mystery.” I say, disappointed.

“What do you mean?”

“I doubt our grandparents would leave here by choice.”

“Oh.”

“I was hoping to meet them, I guess we are both at a loss.” I stand from the pillows and hold out my hand for Liam to take, “We should get some rest. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Just as he was stood up from the pillows, a sharp urgent knock sounded on the heavy wooden door.

“Damn that lantern!” Liam curses, stomping to the door and peering through the peephole. Faust slithers up his arm to wrap around his shoulders, “It’s some noble, I can’t see who.”

He opens the door, and the figure glides into the shop. The numerous gold pieces that adorned her lavishly dressed frame glinted even in the dim lamp light. A shawl she had wrapped around her head, which also sported a golden broach and feathers of some exotic bird, couldn’t contain her voluminous violet hair as it cascaded down her back. Her gold and jade cincher held the delicate folds of her silk dress in place over the layer of translucent lace that sleeved her buxom frame, and acted as a belt of for the many fluttering layers of skirts.

“Forgive me for the hour, but I will not suffer another sleepless night.” she says while pulling back her shawl, revealing a elegant, angular face. An emerald hung from a string of pearls, resting just above her dramatically arched brows, “Please you must read the cards for me. It has to be you.”

Liam seems shocked at first, but quickly recovers and welcomes the woman. She begins to flatter my brother, and I roll my eyes.

‘If I had one silver Gros for every time I’ve heard this song and dance.’

I can’t be too upset, I love my own games as well. Though I would rather she just get to the point instead of using such soft manipulation. Given what has come to light, with the loss of Liam’s memories and obviously plain life he lives now, she shouldn’t think this is necessary. You woo and charm other nobles, not commoners. Unless that was simply who she was, which would be admirable given how needless cruelty can be so common among the upper classes. Of course I will have to wait for her to reveal the real reason for her midnight visit in order to gauge anything with any amount of certainty.

“No matter. I come with a proposal.” the Lady confesses, lifting her decorated hand to rest against her clavicle.

This got my attention, as did Liam’s behavior when dealing with this noble. Surely he remembers something, anything, of who he is if he can remember me? However the way he sputters his response has me second guessing. She starts to tease him for his nervousness, before offering him reassurance and more flattery as well as a place in the palace as a guest. How strange, normally a place at court is reserved only for other nobility or those of equal status. She may be looking for a court mage? Liam as he is now, is only an apprentice, and surely not qualified enough to join any court. She does think highly of him though, and the urgency of her request means this may not be some fanciful dalliance.

“You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I only ask that you bring your skill – and the arcana.” She looks longingly at the deck of cards on the table.

“Countess, I would love nothing more than to serve you.” he pauses and gestures towards me, “However my sister and I have just reunited, and she is currently my own guest.”

She peers over at me with curious red eyes. I know she sees a plainly dressed woman, which could be used to my advantage. I borrowed the simple dress from Miri and ordered the sailors to hide the crests and heraldry on the brigantine ‘Gloire des étoiles’ so I could blend in and not cause a stir. Having the favor of the local nobility is always valuable, and curiosity gets the better of me. Seeing the opportunity, I take it.

“Rosia, my Lady. Your grace is only out shined by your beauty. I also practice the arcane arts, and I offer you my assistance alongside my brother’s.” I stand, grasp the material of my skirt and dip into a low curtsy, hoping flattery works just as well on her as it does my brother.

“The invitation extends to your kin as well, especially to one who would do me a great service.” she says with a satisfied smile as her eyes subtly analyzed me.

“Then I am at your service, Countess.” He says, bowing his head respectfully.

“You have chosen wisely, magician.” she pulls her curious eyes from me, before resuming a mask of passive delight, “I will alert the guard’s to expect you tomorrow. But before that…” she gestures to the low table with the tarot laid across it, “I want to see these talents of yours for myself. Shall we do a reading?”

Liam ushers her to the backroom, she saunters over and claims one of the round chairs next to me. While Liam moves to sit across from us in the pillows, she looks to me expectantly.

“My apologies, my Lady. My magic is of a more practical kind, my brother practices the divine. He will be of much better service to you than I in this regard.”

“Ah, I see. Well then, go on.” she looks alluringly at Liam while gesturing to the cards.

While he shuffles the cards and the air fills with the hum of magic, the countess folds her hands in front of her and closes her eyes. He slowly lays out the cards in a simple formation, deific power flows around the room, making my spine tingle. Though he says he lost his magic, he certainly isn’t weak. The pulse actually feels stronger now than when he left home. I watch his eyes focus in on the cards for a few moments before his hand pauses over one, and he turns it over on the table.

“The Magician.” he announces.

“How very appropriate.” the Countess says bemusedly, peering down at the card. “And what does he hold for me?”

“You have a plan. One that’s long in the making, Years upon years. Now you seek to set it in motion.” Liam answers swiftly, eyes completely focused on the spread.

“And? Should I move?” she says intensely as her mask of nonchalance falters.

“Yes. Act now. Everything has fallen into place. Your tireless wisdom has allowed you to maneuver your resources in the best possible way, success is in your future.”

“Say no more.” she stands from the table and walks out of the backroom so quickly Liam is barely up from the pillows before she reaches the entrance, her shawl once again pulled over her head, “Your fortunes are simple, like all the others, but yours is the first to pique my interest in this way. Do not dally on your way to the palace, we have much to do. Much to see too. Ahem.”

Liam opens the door for her quickly, bowing his head as she exits.

“Until tomorrow then, pleasant dreams.” She drifts back into the night, leaving behind the faint scent of jasmine.

He stands there for a moment, still as the night around him. Then reaches up to put out the lantern and close the door.

“I wonder what the countess could want with a mere apprentice.” I say facetiously, covering a smirk with my hand, “Surely the court is entertaining enough for her. Then again, you are the talk of the town, so you must have done something to draw her attention.”

“She probably just–”

“Strange hours for a shopkeep.” A sharp voice cuts Liam off. I dart away from the voluminous curtains to the middle of the shop on, and Liam’s gaze frantically darts around to every shadow.

“Behind you.” I hear not but a few feet away. I hold in a gasp and whip around to face the intruder. A figure was looming against a door that had previously been hidden by a curtain, which was now sloppily tied back. His tall figure is draped in black, which makes his ghastly white mask stand out all the more. Even though the large blood red lined coat he wears hangs from his shoulders like a cape, I can see he is sturdily built; albeit thin. The buttoned jacket pulled taut across his chest and the tightness of his pants doing nothing to hide his long limbed form. Deep red curls spill out from the top of the mask, almost matching the glassy emotionless lenses. The buttons on his long leather gloves catch the light as he uncrosses his arms.

“Now sources say this is the witch’s lair. So whom might you two be?” he inquired while stalking towards us.

Liam growls angrily, and I peak over at him, reluctant to look away from the masked man. Liam grabbed a wine bottle of of a side table and rushed at the other man.

“Wait!” I call out, throwing my hand up. My spell flings the bottle from his hands, sending it sailing across the room and shattering against a wall. I can feel the anger pouring off my brother and I step between him and the trespasser, keeping close to Liam, hoping to deescalate the situation. I throw a harsh glare back at my brother while he scowls at the broken glass, before returning my attention to the masked man. His posture shifts threateningly as he tenses, the beak of his mask sinking as its cold empty eyes stare us down.

“May I know who’s asking?” I spit out. It makes him pause, shifting his weight back and lifting his hands up to his mask.

“I'm asking. I’d rather not do it again. But if it will make you talk…” He pulls the mask off and tosses it to the floor, and we are greeted with a toothy smirk, “Well, I can tell by the look on your faces. Shock. Horror.” he emphasizes those last two words, “You know who I am, don’t you?”

I study his face, but his sharp chin and thin aquiline nose are unfamiliar to me. An eye patch is barely visible under the shock of hair that falls across the right half his face, and the discolored skin around his uncovered eye stands out against the paleness of his prominent cheekbones.

“Dr. Jules?” my brother mutters, as if in disbelief.

“Haven’t heard that name in years. Quickly now, where is the witch?” the doctor’s smirk turns into a harsh scowl.

“I’ll never talk!” Liam pushes past me to charge at Dr.Jules.

I throw myself at Liam, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. He struggles, but I hold him back with some effort; I doubt he would struggle hard enough to hurt me. I manage to pull him behind the counter, which now stands between us and the doctor.

“And here I thought we could keep things civil.” the doctor paces towards us, making it to and rounding the counter in only a few quick steps. His frame towers over the both of us, even Liam, who's a good foot taller than myself.

I whisper a spell under my breath and the doctor stops in his tracks, as if he just ran into a wall. He looks at us, no, at the air in front of him in bewilderment, reaching out to touch it. His hand meets something solid and slides down it slowly, making the faint sparkles of light glow under his fingers.

“We don't need to do this.” I breath, alarmed how much the simple spell took out of me, and lean back into Liam. Who wraps his arms protectively around my shoulders and chest.

The doctors eye shoots back down to us, brows arched in vexation.

“We can talk civilly, all of this…this hostility is unnecessary. If we answer your questions, will you leave?” I say placidly, eyeing the doctor, unsure of how long the barrier will hold.

The doctor leans back and crosses his arms, mouth pulling back up into a smug smirk, “I suppose, though it depends on the answers you giv-”

“Absolutely not, this is my shop and I want you out NOW!” Liam interrupts him, pointing an accusatory finger at the doctors chest.

“Soleil, please. You don’t have to fight this time. He can have his answers, he can go, and then no longer will he be a problem.” you sooth, grasping the one arm he still held around your shoulders. Slowly, after several tense moments, he unwinds his arms from my shoulder. 

“On one condition.” Liam sneers, walking out from behind the counter over to the remains of the shattered wine bottle. He picks up the jagged neck and holds it casually up towards the doctor, “He calls us witches again and this goes in his other eye.”

“LIAM! That's not a…” I begin to protest, gaping at him in disgust for saying something so grisly, but his low sardonic laugh makes me pause. I watch Liam toss the piece of broken bottle back onto the floor, then lean against the wall and cross his arms in front of his chest. Pinching the bridge of my nose I turn my attention back to the doctor. He’s still standing in the same spot, but is now leaning his shoulder against the wall, absently playing with the barrier with an amused smirk, “You wanted to know where Asra is, oui?”

“Well yes, that is what I’ve been asking.” The doctor jeers lowly, eyeing Liam carefully, the corners of his mouth tilting downward.

“Well as you can see he isn’t here, and before you even ask, no. He did not tell me where he was going.” Liam scorns, walking to the front door. He opens it and gestures outside with a wide sweep of his arm, “Now if that will be all.”

The doctor raises his hands up in mock defeat, his expression softening some, and casually pads over to stand just outside of the backroom.

“Well if you wont tell me where he is, won’t you at least tell my fortune?” He says calmly while pulling back one of the curtains hanging in the entrance to the room, as if he hadn’t been threatened moments before, “That is what this room is for, right?”

I stare at him incredulously, shocked by the doctors boldness. Liam however was less impressed, and he stomped over with a grimace plastered on his face.

“This is my shop, and I will not have some-”

“Liam, Soleil, It's just one reading, he will be gone soon. If he meant us harm he would have done so already.” I coax, trying to keep the mood calm.

Liam stares at me with narrowed eyes, brows knitting together and one corner of his mouth pulling down into a frown. I give him a charming closed mouth smile, tilting my head slightly. He looks between me and the doctor before throwing his hands up with an exasperated huff.

“Fine, fine. Do what you want. I’m going to bed.” Liam makes his way to the other side of the room, pulling back a curtain to reveal a dark staircase. He takes the first step then looks back at me, annoyance clear on his face, then drops the curtain and ascends the stairs.”

“Goodnight, Liam.” I reply dryly, listening to his heavy footsteps. Flicking my wrist towards the door, it swings shut, and I turn back to the doctor once I can hear Liam shuffling around overhead.

“After you, then.” the doctor says cordially, gesturing into the room and holding the curtain open for me. Something shatters upstairs, and the doctor smiles impishly, “Lovely decor. Reminds me of the good old days.”

I sigh and walk past the doctor, taking a seat on one of the chairs. He follows suit, dropping onto the one next to mine.

“I apologize for my brothers rudeness,” I say while shuffling the cards, laying out a quick spread, “though you did do your best to antagonize the situation further as well.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but I shush him. Holding a finger up to my lips, which were curled into a cheeky smile.

“Let’s not waste time with small talk, we have a reading to do after all.” I chortle, moving my hand to hover over the cards. I close my eyes, reaching out to touch their energy. Its fights me at first, it always does, whereas it speaks to Liam like a lover. But slowly it comes and I can hear their low faint whispers, and I turn over the loudest of the bunch. Then something pops, and I can’t hear the cards anymore. The voices just stop, and I can’t make head or tails of the magic in the card. No matter, I still know their meaning even if they can’t tell me any deeper secrets.

“Death.” I whisper, trying again to reach out and feel the card. Sometimes they can be persuaded out of their shyness if I try hard enough.

“Death?” he questions. Pulling me from my concentration. “Death?” He repeats, before laughing coldly.

“You’ve got to be joking.” he hisses, slamming his fist on the table. I flinch and his lips pull back into a cruel sneer. “Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.”

He rips himself from the table, his jacket brushing against me as he staggers out of the small room. I follow closely behind, confused by his anger, “Monsieur3, that's not-”

He turns suddenly, and I have to I throw my hands out against his stomach to keep from running right into him. He grips one of my wrists, his long fingers easy encircling it.

“You’ve been hospitable so I’ll let you in on a little secret.” he leans over me like he was trying to whisper in my ear, but his voice stays the same ominous drone as he creeps closer. Voice dripping with feigned amusement, “Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks.”

“He’s not my friend.”

The doctor stills, and I back away as much as the grip on my wrist will allow. He looks down our hands, then released his hold on me.

“I don’t even know him. He’s my brother’s teacher.” I pull my wrist to my chest while taking another small step back.

“Oh. I assumed-”

“You assumed wrong. I’ve only just arrived, and have been in Vesuvia for single a day.”

The doctor seems to take the hint and backs off slightly – enough so that he isn’t completely looming over my small frame. He stares at me warily for a moment, before looking over at his discarded mask.

I flit over to it, lift it up and look into the lenses, which were a deep rich red that starkly contrasts the white of the leather.

“You can probably say that he cares for your brother.” the doctor breaks the silence somberly. The statement pulls my gaze away from the mask and back to the doctor. His eyes flick between my face and the mask, face turning solemn, “But when he returns, seek me out for both your sakes. That creature is far more dangerous than you know.”

I try to keep a stony unreadable mask over my worry as he me, but his ominous words make my stomach twist with anxiety.

‘Oh Liam, what have you gotten yourself into?’

“Well then. The hour is late, and I’m out of time.” he struts over, reaching out for his mask.

“Not so fast. You never paid me for my services.” I pull it away from him, hiding it behind my skirts.

He stares at me blankly before giving me a forced smile, reaching for his coin purse.

“Ah yes, you are right. Let me..”

“I don’t want your money.”

His hands still and eyes bore into mine, puzzled.

“Quid pro quo, Doctor. Answers for answers. My brother seems to be quite fond of your mutual friend, but is troubled by him as well. He also seems to have an ailment of sorts. He thinks Asra may know something about it. You wouldn’t happen to be able to help me with any of this, would you?” I say plainly, pulling his mask from behind me slightly, trying to tease an answer out of him. I see his eyes dart to it and a hurt look crosses the doctors face before turning expressionless and cold.

“I see. I cannot help you.” he quickly reaches past me and snatches the mask from my hands, looking it over before slipping it over his face. He makes for the door and, and I run up behind him, grabbing his sleeve before he can open it.

“Wait. Please. You have to know something?” I plead, my calm demeanor fracturing some, “If you know anything of this then tell me, monsieur. I would be grateful. I only wish to protect my brother.”

He glances back at me through the mask. I can feel tears of frustration brim on my lashes, and I frown, trying to will them away. I fix my hold on his sleeve so I can grasp his arm fully, pulling him slowly from the door. He turns slightly, silently observing me. I place my other hand on the inside of his forearm, the leather of his glove smooth against my palm, and look up into the glassy emotionless eyes of the mask.

“Please.” I breath.

He gently shakes the grip I have on his arm, then reaches out and places his gloved hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“Don’t let him fool you.”

Then his hand retreats, the door opens, and he disappears into the early morning fog.


	2. Chapter 2

Even with exhaustion weighing heavily down on me, I was too wound up from the events of last night to get any real sleep. I had cleaned up the pot of dried hibiscus buds I knocked over while rooting around carelessly for nightclothes in the dresser, growing irritated when I found a piece of Asra’s clothing mixed with mine. I didn’t even realize who it belonged to until I tried to put it on, finding it too tight to fit around my shoulders. Once dressed, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the dark stairwell, willing my mind to calm while I waited for my sister to join me. When she did, I breathed a sigh of relief. Although I had been listening for any foul play I know tragedies can happen in an instant. When I ask her about the doctor’s reading all she says to me is that he was ‘strange’ and ‘left in a hurry’. 

“He was just so eager to stay, though. I wonder why he wanted to flee so quickly?” I say teasingly, remembering Rosia’s quietly disarming charm and how it could unsettle some people. Most of the time she could have even the most obstinate type of person eating from her hand after she worked them a bit, but there have been a few that have felt her pulling those little silk strings and run before she could finish. It’s helped me escape more punishments than I can count. Father was wrapped around her little finger and he would always listen to the stories she spun, explaining away any of the little crimes I had committed. Unless, of course, she wanted me to get scolded. They believed her white lies more often than not, as she always seemed so obedient. 

There aren't enough hands in the world to count the number of times I’ve either helped her sneak in or out of our home, or her doing the same for me. I would always make my way to the docks, content to walk along them and admire the ships or stop in a fisherman's tavern. It being such a public place I was caught several times, and Rosia would tell Father that she had sent me out to get something for her. Either from one of her ‘friends’, or from whatever shop was closest to where I was spotted. I never worried much about being caught, even if she wasn’t there to cover for me, being able to wander freely for a few hours was more than enough for me to laugh at any punishment they could dish out. Rosia was far more secretive about her outings, making sure to go through the garden to cover her trail, and coming back before she could truly be missed. However, the things that she would bring back told me exactly where she had been. Wildflowers, birds feathers, unrefined jagged crystals, bits of animal fur, and other such wild things you could only get from the forest or the rocky coastline.

“Oh it wasn’t anything like that, he just didn’t like his cards.” she said, sounding somewhat detached. 

“Pray tell, what did he get? Surely an ominous man such as himself couldn’t have gotten something…well…ominous?” I snicker, it’s only fair. Karma for breaking into my shop. Even plucky little Rosia knew better than to trespass into my space. Or at least she learned after having bubbles of hidden paint explode on her whenever she went snooping, ruining countless dresses. 

“Not really, he drew Death. And unless the meaning has changed since I last studied tarot then it doesn’t necessarily mean anything awful. Though…” She trailed off, inspecting one of the pink buds I had piled on the top of the dresser, “After that little speech he gave I may make an exception, just for him.”

“Speech?”

“He just carried on about how death doesn’t want him, like some actor at a cheap theatre. But some of the things he said…” She put the bud back in the pile and made her way over to sit next to me, pulling my hands into her lap and rubbing her thumbs across my palms. 

“Like?” I question, trying to coax the rest of it out of her. She’s never been so hesitant before, at least not like this, and it’s a little concerning. What could the doctor have said that spooked her like this? It takes her a minute of fiddling with my hands before she answers. 

“Can you remember who did this to you, or at least try to?”

“I can’t, at least not now. I would have already told you if I did. I would probably already be hunting the bastard down.”

“Do you think Asra did this?”

I pull my hands from hers and give her a dirty look, shooting up to pace around the room. The muscles in my back tense as I repeat her question in my head, my mind bouncing the possibilities around like hot stones. I cannot decide which is worse, that the culprit is unknown and unreachable, or that Asra could have done this. Just thinking that he could have makes a hot knife twist in my gut, so I throw that stone as far from my mind as I can. I stop my pacing and brace myself against the dresser with my arms, staring into the little mirror hanging above it. More of my hair has come loose from where I had it tied back low on my head, refusing to fix it I rip out the tie, letting the rest fall free. 

“Could he have-” Rosia starts.

“No!” I bark, spinning to look down at her. My jaw cramping from how hard I’ve been tensing, and eyes narrowed in disgust. For who I haven't decided yet. She looks away from me, eyes wide and lips pursed tightly, arms pin straight at her sides with her hands gripping the edge of the mattress. After looking at her for a moment I growl, rubbing my prickly face. I would need to shave soon, “No, I don’t think he did this. He’s absent, he’s distant, but he’s no villain.”

“What if he was here before this happened to you, and you don’t even remember. The doctor said he was dangerous, he could have-”

“I see, the good doctor put this in your head. What else did he have to say?”

“He did not tell me anything I did not already suspect, and stop interrupting me.” she glowers, marching over to stand in front of me, “You cannot rule this out, you cannot rule anything out. There are too many coincidences, even from what little I know.”

“You’re right, what little you know.” 

“Stop it, Liam. I know you’re scared, but that’s no reason to be cruel. Not to me.” She sighs, reaching out to once again hold my hands in hers, “Besides, you don’t really know him either, you said so yourself. I’m not saying to swing the executioner's ax, just… be wary. Until we know more. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Apparently, that was enough to please her. She smiles softly and wraps her arms around my waist to hug me. I return it with a small huff, resting one hand on her back and placing the other on the back of her head. The rest of the evening was silent, neither one of us wanting to say something to break the other’s truce. I offered her one of my shirts as a proverbially olive branch, but she chose to sleep in her under-dress instead. We both fell into the bed, staring up at the tented ceiling as if searching through all the words that still hung in the air. Flicking my wrist, I put out the lantern, bathing the room in darkness. Not too soon after I could hear her soft even breaths next to me as she drifted off. 

‘What happened to me?’ 

I asked myself this over and over as I laid there, but the more I tried to push it, the more shadows and headaches I would find. Eventually, I was able to calm myself enough to drift off, only to wake up soon after when Rosia crawled out of bed. She dressed quietly in the dark, while I lay back against the plush pillows that smelled faintly of my friend. Not wanting to think about it, him, just yet, I sit up. Pulling myself from the familiar scent and flick the lantern back to life. Rosia stilled, eyes shooting to the to the lantern, then over to me, before continuing to put herself together. I can’t remember her wearing such plain clothes before, even if they were of a finer cut. A simple square neck white leine under a viridian kirtle that tied from the waist up, and the shape of her silhouette told me she was wearing some kind of flat front corset under it all. The delicate silver chain of a necklace disappeared below the neckline of her dress, and the braid that wrapped around the crown of her head was tied it with a fine blue ribbon. 

The same silk ribbon I had left on her pillow for her to find so many years ago. I had teased her endlessly and told her I had gotten her nothing for her birthday since she was such a menace to me. She had stormed off to her room after her party, being careful not to alert the guests to her foul mood. That same night she crept into my room when she thought I was sleeping and I half expected her to dump a bucket of slush on me in revenge. Instead, she laid next to me and drifted off to sleep. I smiled fondly at the memory, then sniggered when I remembered I had piled worms all over the bed before she woke up. Getting back at her for the previous week when she had weakened the seams of my pants, causing them to rip, and forcing me to run home half naked. 

 

That was before we were old enough for Father to be bothered by such things, sharing beds and such. He was oblivious to our little wars for the most part, or at least he never did anything to stop them. But that was one of the last times I remember sharing a bed with her, until last night. I try to think back and remember father’s face, but all I can see is a dark silhouette with the same pale rosy hair as my sister. It's strange, remembering only the faintest parts of someone who was once so close. 

“Rosia, what did father look like?”

Her lips quirked up into a small smile as she slipped her feet into her brown leather boots.

“He was tall, not quite so tall as our unwanted visitor though. He was built sturdy, and had eyes that made the ladies of the court jealous.” she chuckled, tying the laces off and brushing her skirts out, “He did start to get a little fat though. He had a fine face. He gave you your face, you know. You look just like him except for your hair, momma gave you that.” Her voice drifted off into a sullen wistfulness.

“How are they? Do they know where I am? Do they miss me?” I ask with some excitement. The fog is clearing some in my mind. I can make out the laurel color of our father's eyes, the same color Rosia and I share. 

She stills, and turns her gaze to a dark window in the corner of the room, answering me with silence. She looks at the dark window for a long time, before shaking her head and moving to sit next to be on the edge of the bed. I press myself to remember anything, but all I see is dark figures with small flashes of color that get swallowed by black nothingness. I gaze over at the lantern, wanting to see anything but that void within myself. The little flame in the lantern flickers higher and I’m hit with an unbearable heat. A blazing fire burns through the darkness in my mind, screams and shouts muffled by distance. I groan in pain and cradle my head in my hands. 

“Liam?” she worries, placing a hand on my arm. 

“Was there a fire?” I look back at the lantern, its tiny flame flickering away like usual, then rub my eyes aggressively. 

“You mean the masquerade? I heard about that, rumors always fly swiftly when they are made of blood. Poor Count Lucio, on his birthday nonetheless!”

“I mean at home, was there a fire?”

“I need to go get my things, I may be awhile. Stay here and rest. I can meet you at the Palace later.” Rosia coos.

I turn away from her and bury myself into the pillows, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. Why did she just try to divert the conversation instead of answering me? Doesn't she want me to remember? She shakes my shoulder to get my attention, but I keep my gaze on the pillow in front of me, too tired to deal with whatever this was. I hear her sigh before she gets up to leave, quietly closing the door behind her. Despite my poor mood, and drained from poor sleep, I drift off quickly. Feeling the dream before I can see it, that familiar sensation takes over my body long before I can open my eyes. When I finally can, an eerie plane envelopes my mind.

The endless night sky stretches above in deep purples and inky blacks, the stars fighting to shine through swirling clouds. A sea of dark red sand goes on forever, only broken up by the many dunes reaching up like waves across the horizon. It’s warm here, but the wind sends shivers down my spine and seems to come from everywhere at once. I feel like I’m floating and sinking simultaneously, making me dizzy. I finally notice that Asra is next to me, mounted on a strange beast and lazily making a trail through the desert. Though I know I should feel shock at this discovery, something inside me quells it, replacing it with a cold forlornness. Though I can feel a breeze, the large plumage of Asra’s hat only moves to the slow sway of his body, and all is maddeningly silent. Even the crunching of the sand beneath the beast is barely a whisper. I don’t know if Asra has taken notice of me, he hasn't made any indication of such, and his tightly wrapped shawl and wide-brimmed hat obscure his face as he stares out across the empty plane ahead.

“Master? Where are we?” I call out to the phantasm. Dreams take on a meaning all their own, and exist deep in the subconscious, acting as guides to our innermost world. Maybe whatever the apparition of Asra says will help me make sense of the rest of this. 

“I dare not tell you. If I did you would have to promise me to never seek this path. Not even I am such a hypocrite as that, Liam.” he cautioned, a melancholic edge to his normally bright voice. 

I’m sure I've never walked this road, but the sight of it feels like an old nightmare. One that crawls deep inside your brain and lashes out whenever you are most vulnerable to its misery. The paths ahead twist like a pit of angry vipers, illuminated only by the weak light of the stars above. How long has he been traveling this desolate path, how far into the wasteland is he? How far am I from home? Why is my mind conjuring such haunting and lonely images? Though I feel the urge to search the path behind us, I dare not look back. The thought alone sends a wave of terror shuddering over my heart. What is this wretched place?!

“Soon there will be a crossroads.” Asra hums woefully.

“Crossroads, in the wilds ahead? Where do they lead?” I look over to him, wild-eyed, desperate for answers. 

“That depends on which path you take. Now, rest...” He moves one hand in a smooth arc through the air, his palm glowing softly and leaving behind a trail of light. I feel myself lurch forward slightly before falling into darkness. 

I wake to the morning light pouring softy through the stained glass window above the bed, casting multicolor rays across the room. Pulling myself from the sheets, I sit up straight on top of the tangled pile of sheets, bewildered. Was that simply a nightmare or had I just dream walked? I have never had dreams that clear before, or ones I could remember so vividly. If I did just dream walk, does that mean Asra was dreaming as well? If so then how did we end up in the same dream, the same plane? I Look at the window, lost in my thoughts. The sun shines in full, bright in the clear morning sky, and I jump out of bed in alarm. Quickly tossing my thoughts away to examine some other time, now fully aware of how late in the morning it was. How late I was going to be.

After dressing in the usual fair, patterned hill tribe pants with a navy blue tunic and sandals, I throw together a travel bag of bare essentials. Cards, notebook, and travel pen, then rush out of the shop. After last night’s intrusion, I make sure to turn the first, second, and third lock. Almost satisfied, I press my hand to the door and whisper a cross-me-not spell. The wood lights up in swirling, vine-like, turquoise patterns before settling into the grain and fading. That should keep even the most tenacious of intruders at bay. I pull the handle, and smile in satisfaction, before jogging to the market road. I turn the corner onto the large thoroughfare, walking briskly past the vendors, and the familiar voice of the baker rings out catching my attention. 

“Liam, have you eaten? Bah, even if you have I know you’ll be hungry anyway. I’ve got those fluffy pastries you like in the oven, won't be long now. Come, sit down. Talk for a while!” 

I sniff the air and my stomach clenches. Remembering the two meals I’ve missed, I let the delicate buttery smell lure me into the booth. The conversation with the baker was amicable, and I eagerly enjoy the meal and company, but quickly say my goodbyes. I wave off the pumpkin bread he tries to give me and duck out of the booth, back onto the main road. Seeing a large crowd ahead blocking the road run up the stairs that separate the upper and lower markets, hoping to avoid getting caught in the swarm.

The morning mist is thick, yet to be scattered by the heat of the day. It blankets the streets in a milky glow, and I take a moment to appreciate the tranquil and all too familiar scene. The only thing missing is the chilly wind blowing in from the bay, then it would be just like home. I long to be back home, as torn as it is currently, but the call of duty to my brother is stronger. I doubt I will be leaving this city anytime soon. I had hoped that this would be a quick journey with little trouble, but luck hasn’t been much of a friend as of late. No matter, I was able to charm my uncle into giving me a lengthy deadline. Surely it will be enough time to sort out whatever all of this trouble is with Liam.

Suddenly the hair at the nape of my neck stands up, and I can sense that someone is near. The once peaceful dim morning light quickly turned into threatening shadows, and I spot something odd down the alley. On closer inspection, I notice a dark shape that almost blends in with the various barrels and tall baskets. Almost. I figured the doctor was persistent, given his attitude last night, but surely he wouldn’t stake out the shop for who knows how long just to contact Asra. Then again, as Liam said, ‘what little I know’.

“Doctor, I’ve told you once already, he is not...” I stop myself when I realize the shape is all wrong. It's bulky when it should be lean, though still just as tall, and doesn’t even look human at first. My eyes adjust to the shadows and I can make out the mess of belts and furs that cross over a wide chest, barely concealed by a well-worn cloak. How long have they been there, waiting in the mist? And waiting for whom? The way his dark sunken eyes trained on me gave me an uneasy feeling, as well as the fact that he’s blocking my path to the docks. Shaking my paranoia I walk up to the man, who is as still as the shadows he hides in. He’s more than likely some vagrant who’s trying to find a dry place to rest, and I've simply disturbed his sleep, not enough of an issue to warrant getting lost trying to find an alternative route.

“Excuse me, may I pass?” I ask politely when I’m but a few steps away from him, keeping my posture solid despite my trepidation.

He steps to the side and I can hear the unsettling rattle of chains as they dance under his cloak. As I walk past him, a hand reaches out of the darkness and seizes my shoulder, halting me. 

“He will return, uninvited. He will offer you an escape when you need it most...turn it away or you will fall into his hand. You and Liam. Just like the rest of us.” His hand releases me, but I am rooted to the spot.

My nerves are screaming for me to leave, now! Despite this, I almost force myself to chase after the man for answers, but I know it would be futile. He is already rounding the corner of the alley and disappearing from sight, leaving behind the lingering scent of myrrh. Even if the stranger was willing to talk, I would never be able to track him down in these winding streets. Huffing in frustration I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and make my way through the city, carefully eyeing the few landmarks I remembered from yesterday to find my way while asking myself yet again: What has my brother has gotten himself into?

‘You can ask the same for yourself.’ 

However, unlike Liam, I don’t have an enigmatic mage for a friend that everyone feels the need warn me about. Who are these people anyway? Friends of Asra’s, maybe even my brother’s? If so, it's certainly some interesting company to keep. The war in my head quiets when I reach a wide colorful street, teeming with life. Thick ropes adorned with paper lanterns in various shades of red hang crisscrossed overhead, tied to large wooden beams that lined the street. The faint sound of flowing water comes from beneath me, some kind of water drainage system that’s roughly the size of a small canal. The people have simply covered it with wooden planks and tossed rugs over them. Daylight seeps through the gaps in the planks, making the water below shimmer. It's still so early, but the marketplace is absolutely buzzing. Vendors calling to the crowds, holding up silks and colorful fruits in the hope of drawing people into their booths. Curious, I slowly survey the rows of tents, peeking into different stalls to see their wares and wandering further into the market, careful not to stray from the main road.

The load croak of a raven sounds right above me, drawing my attention away from the rows of spices I had been browsing. It’s unusually large feathered form perched on the ropes above looking down at the crowd below, and its deep black eyes draw me in. Flapping its wings in mild irritation while craning its head about, looking over to a spot behind me. Peeking over my shoulder to see what has captured this creature's eye and I am surprised to see the doctor casually enjoying the morning market, his height and flaming red hair instantly noticeable in the throng. He seems absorbed in whatever task he has at hand, and either does not see or does not recognize me. Thinking back to last night, I wonder if a change in atmosphere and a proper introduction will loosen the doctor's lips. And so I push my way through the crowd towards him. 

Just as I am coming up behind him, not but a few paces away, the raven lets out a frantic cry. Squawking wildly while swooping down, low enough that it startles some of the other patrons. The doctor's head whips around, searching the crowd before his eyes land on me, and we stare at each other for a moment. I freeze, unsure of how to continue, though his wide-eyed expression says he’s just as shocked as me. Composing myself, I give him a coy smile and continue my advance. 

‘If I take this slowly maybe I can-’ 

Suddenly I feel a sharp pinch on my toes, cutting off my thoughts. Crying out in pain I pull my feet back, away from the wheels of a large cart as it wobbles by. The crates piled on top of it block my view of everything besides the thick braids of garlic hanging off the cart itself. Once it passes I look over to where the doctor had been standing, and he is nowhere to be seen. Searching the crowd I see no sign of him, or the raven, he’s simply vanished. Standing there, dumbstruck, the patrons move around me in a blur. 

‘Why am I even doing this? He already said he can’t, or won’t, help me? What are a few hours going to change? Also, considering he broke into my brother's shop, he could have very unsavory motives. Then there was the man from earlier, I could have marched right into death's arms. I’ve come so far and I decide to be reckless now!’

Shaking my head I push my way through the crowd, feeling far too vulnerable in this sea of people, and slip out of it and into a calmer alley of the market. The crowd is thinner here, much quieter, and people are moving far more slowly. I look back to the main road, now hesitant to follow it. Sighing, I pull a small cloth purse from my bag and open it. After shifting a few items around I pull out a large wooden splinter and bobbin of white thread, then take off my sunstone pendant necklace and tie the splinter to the crystal. Holding the end of the long silver chain I spin it spin it in a circle and hum, letting the spell crawl from my mind and down into the splinter. The chain slacks and the pendant lifts into the air, the splinter pointing the way back to its home. The Gloire des étoiles.

I scaled the last set of stairs just as the sun was starting to set. Unfortunately for me not only is the palace on the opposite side of the city from my shop, but my nap ate away half of the day. Countess will surely take offense to my lateness, but there is no going back now. Adjusting my bag and wiping the sweat from my brow, I survey the opulent palace. Gold topped spires brush the sky, propped up by massive white stone walls and towers that glow pink in the evening light. At its center is a colorful mosaic of brightly lit glass, easily 3 stories high, mounted over huge copper doors. What isn’t covered by polished stone is sporting lush greenery and a maze of walkways that lead deeper into the grounds. It looks as impressive as it is unnecessary.

“Who goes there?” 

My gaze drops to the wrought iron gate, shut securely and bordered by high stone walls, where two armed guards are stationed on either side. My sister is standing before them, quietly fuming, and waves me over when she sees I was the one the guards were calling out to. 

“See, he’s here, now let us through. The Countess is expecting my brother and me, and we have leave to enter the palace.”

“We have no knowledge of you. Unless you know the code, you must leave at once. This is the last time we will warn you.” one guard demands, irritation plain across her stony face.

“The last time you’ll... Listen here, I will not be threatened by the guards of a Lady who has given me permission to enter her grounds. Call for one of the others to speak to her, you will find I have been telling you the truth.” Rosia harps, strutting up to the gate. 

The other guard, some large male, moves from his post, grabbing her arms to restrain her. Rosia puffs her chest out and demands to be released, but her bravado turns to a whimper when the guard holding her jerks her arms hard behind her back, hard enough to knock her off balance. The female guard approaches the pair, pulling shackles from her belt. 

“I know the code.” I call out.

They all stop, save for the guard handling the shackles, who simply undoes the locks. Letting them click open before addressing me, “...Proceed.”

Eyeing the large curved swords resting on their hips, and the exasperated glare Rosia shoots both of the guards, I think back to earlier in the day. When I had run into that red-haired woman as she was leaving that fortune teller's booth. I recall the ‘lucky number’ that young woman repeated so many times, and how odd I thought it was. Numerology is rare here, very few people can even read let alone do the math required to practice it. On top of that the woman, Portia, is a servant of this palace. These coincidences are just too much to ignore. So praying a bit of Asra’s wisdom serves me in this moment, I repeat those very same numbers to the guards. 

“3,6,7,9.” 

They look to each other for a moment before reacting, the one holding Rosia releases her, and each of them return to their posts to push one of the heavy black doors open wordlessly, the hinges squeaking harshly with the effort. Without hesitation, I walk up to the gate, grab Rosia's arm, and lead her through. She shoots the guard who touched her a fake smile, and I tighten my grip while pulling her along. 

“What was that fo-” she winces. 

“You shouldn’t antagonize people like that, armed guards least of all.” I whisper harshly.

“You shouldn’t bow to others so easily. You used to make a point of it, proudly defiant to anyone who crossed you, as ill-mannered as it was. You would have had those two on their knees before you, one way or another.” she pulls from my grip to lean against the railing of the bridge, turning her back to me. I watch her examine the water below, her head tilting slightly as she leans farther over the rails, and brood over what she said.

“Something catch your eye?”

I look back to see Portia walking along the bridge towards us, the gate closing behind her. Her eyes spark with recognition as she approaches, and she looks over the rail trying to see what has caught Rosias attention.

“Ah. Do you like animals?”

“I love animals, I’m just not to keen on meeting that one.” Rosia professed.

“Oh. You do. How nice. You’ll definitely enjoy your stay here. The palace is home to all kinds of exotic pets. But I agree, you don't want to get too friendly with that one.” Portia remarks, casually pointing to the water.

I’m relieved at the timing of Portia's arrival, she seems chatty enough to distract my sister from our terse conversation. At least long enough for me to think about it some more. They talk on amicably, and I amble over to the opposite side of the bridge to peer down into the moat. Long slick figures slide through the mud on the bottom, blending in with the stirring silt. Little ribbons of flesh trail off their slim black bodies, making them look like some kind of threadbare seaweed come to life. 

All at once a dizzying pressure fills my head, and I grip the marble railing hard to keep balance. My vision clouds and the two women's cheerful voices disappear in the fog. Closing my eyes, I try to will the pain away. After some time, a few minutes or so, it slowly ebbs and I release my white-knuckle grip on the rail. Opening my eyes again, I expect to see the little creatures twisting in the moat below, but instead, I’m standing on a well-kept ship. Sailors work around me, adjusting different ropes along the sides and mast. The sky is overcast and the air frightfully cold as little flurries drift down from the heavens and disappear into the dark calm waters. The ship is huge and barely rocks as the wind fills the green canvas sails, pulling it through the sea. 

“Papa, what's that thing in the water.”

I look around to see who's speaking and am stunned to find my own young face staring in wonder at the sea. A young boy with raven hair bundled in leather and fur with a wooden sword tied to his belt stands on the tips of his toes trying to look down into the water. A strapping and well-dressed man with rosy hair is standing next to the boy, shuffling through a handful of documents. The man smiles, rolling the parchments up and slipping them into his coat, then picks the boy up to set him up on the railing. Making sure to keep a hold on the child, as they both lean over to watch the waves. The thick fur trim of the man's coat brushes the boy's already red nose, and the boy furiously rubs at his face. I can feel my own nose tickle while I watch the scene. 

“THAT is a vampire eel. Best to never let one bite you, they don’t let go until they have had their fill of blood.” the man said playfully, tickling the boy's side....my side. They both continued to talk, the man answering all of the boy's… my questions in good spirits.

“Mes Marquis, there is a Hoy without a flag roughly a league off the stern, shall we pursue?” a smartly dressed older man inquired. 

The man, the Marquis, lowered the boy to the deck and instructed him to go below. 

“But papa, I want to watch this time!” the boy fussed.

“When you are older, Liam. Now go, you may watch from the windows.” the man said bluntly. 

The boy deflated and moped to a small door under the bridge of the ship, pulling out his little wooden sword and dragging it along the deck before descending down the stairs, thumping it on every step before disappearing from sight. 

It took a few moments to register that the water I was staring at now wasn’t the icy sea, but the warm murky moat of the palace, and reel back in shock. The women continue to gab behind me, oblivious to what just occurred. I turn around and sit on the thick ledge of the railing, feeling weak from the sudden rush in my head, and rub my temples slowly as I make sense of what I had just seen….what I just remembered. A hand on my shoulder abruptly pulls me from my thoughts, and I look down to see Portia smiling warmly. She pats my shoulder before ushering us along to the palace, filling the air with more conversation. Rosia happily chats along, but being to absorbed in my own thoughts I only offer little hums whenever the conversation turns to me. 

“We have arrived.” Portia steps in front of us and swings her fist against the ornate door, and it opens.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> 1Sun.  
> 2 Calm my Sun.  
> 3 Mister/sir.  
> 


End file.
